


Absent Touch

by ruin (ruinrunes)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Shotacon, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 11:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinrunes/pseuds/ruin
Summary: Milo's always been handsy with Allister, but this time, he takes it a bit farther than he intends.
Relationships: Onion | Allister/Yarrow | Milo
Comments: 30
Kudos: 249





	Absent Touch

Allister doesn’t want to be here. It’s not that he has anything to do, or even that he doesn’t like spending time with Milo.

It’s just that he doesn’t really like it when they all meet up together like this. The other gym leaders have never gone out of their way to make Allister feel particularly welcome, not that Allister cares anymore.

It’s hard to care when he’s got Milo, who always has time for him, and beyond that, always seems to want to _spend_ that time on him. Allister still isn’t entirely sure what Milo sees in him, but he’s happy none the less.

So he lets Milo drag him to the trainer meetings instead of skipping them like he would if left to his own devices. He’s never had the chance, considering Milo imprinted on him the moment he earned his title, but Allister has never been one for group activities in the past. He’s not sure this would have been much different.

They usually do these things over dinner, and they’re the last to arrive, Milo ushering him into the dimly lit restaurant by the small of his back.

Allister doesn’t get all fluttery over that anymore, not after knowing Milo for any stretch of time. It’s just another thing he does, even though it still makes Allister blush a little to be led around like that.

There’s two open seats, side by side in the corner of the table. Allister wonders if they get the far seats because they want to avoid him, or because Milo’s booming voice is only really tolerable a table’s length away.

When they’re seated, Allister tries to pay attention to the conversation, but it’s never anything too important. He reads all the bulletins and updates in his free time; he really, _really_, doesn’t need to come to these things.

He startles at the touch on his leg, rocketed out of his musings at the feel of Milo’s large hand curling over the delicate curve of his knee and settling like it belongs there.

Allister looks down at the hand resting innocuously against his joint, struck a little dumb by the fact that Milo doesn’t even miss a beat. Now that Allister’s paying attention, he can hear Milo raucously describing his last battle, but it’s the last thing Allister can focus on.

Milo’s not even looking at him, which is the worst bit. How is he so used to this? How can he be so calm when Allister is already turning an unflattering shade of red behind his mask. Milo’s taken liberties with his body before, but never like this. Never so personal and warm and invasive.

It’s like Milo can hear him thinking, because the hand on his knee tenses, fingers digging in around his kneecap and shocking Allister into snapping his legs closed tight. His knees knock together, dislodging Milo’s grip for only a second before he readjusts and settles it on Allister’s thigh instead.

And god, what does Allister even do with that? Milo’s speech doesn’t even stutter, looking for all the world like it’s perfectly natural to have his _hand_ on Allister’s _leg_.

He tries to breathe deep and stay calm, stay _still_, but he’s nervous – confused, even. It shouldn’t matter, it’s just a hand, Milo’s touched him loads of times, but it’s hard not to hyper focus on the big, rough palm settled flush against his skin.

Allister tries to focus, tries to listen in on what’s being said as opposed to how he’s being touched, but it’s hard, so hard. Where he usually finds Milo one of the most engaging people he knows, Allister is now stuck struggling to parse out what’s being said around him.

Allister can hear his volume climbing, and thinks, wildly, that this would be exactly the moment Milo should bring his hands up, gesturing enthusiastically and clenching his fists –

Except Milo _doesn’t_.

He raises _one_ hand, fist in the air as his other hand curls tight around Allister’s thigh.

The sound is tumbling from Allister’s mouth before he can stop it, a squeak so quiet it’s a wonder Milo can hear it at all.

But he does hear it. He always hears Allister, even when he’s mumbling and stuttering. It’s something Allister really loves about him.

He can see the moment Milo’s attention switches from the leaders to him, the minute shift in his body language, curling towards Allister even as he finishes off his story and turns to look at him.

“You alright, Alli?” Milo asks, voice low and private. It’s not like anybody’s bothering to listen, already used to tuning out the myriad of micro conversations they share.

It’d be fine, if that’s all Milo did, but the moment he notices Allister is shaking, he’s rubbing calming circles into his skin, trying to comfort him in the only way that Milo ever knows how.

Allister isn’t too sure about the details of love language, but he’s positive that Milo’s is touch.

Allister swallows, tries to control his shaking, nods because he’s not sure he can answer without sounding like something’s off. Because nothing should be off, everything is _fine_. There’s nothing happening except Milo’s hand sliding against his bare skin, trying to calm him and only causing Allister to tremble harder.

Milo, ever perfect, doesn’t push him, just smiles all fond and indulgent and squeezes Allister’s thigh for good measure before turning back to the table.

Allister lets out a long breath, unaware he’d been holding it as Milo had rested his full focus on him. He’s adjusting to the sensation now, getting used to the feeling of having Milo’s hand on this part of him instead of ruffling his hair or resting on his clothed shoulder.

It’s kind of nice, if anything, Allister doesn’t often have the luxury of touch, and feeling connected to Milo like this makes him feel warm and gooey. Milo’s spoiled him a little, in that regard, and Allister thinks that maybe he could get used to this too.

It’s a wonder than Milo even wants to touch him sometimes, but Allister can’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought. The idea that even when Milo isn’t focused on him, he’s still aware of him. Aware enough to want to keep his hands on Allister even when he’s not looking at him.

Allister doesn’t think anybody’s ever been that attuned to him before, and he can’t help the little smile that makes its way onto his face.

He’s just settling down, listening to the rise and fall of Milo’s voice as he argues good-naturedly with Nessa, when, without warning, Milo bursts into a loud, throaty laugh and digs his nails into the meat of Allister’s thigh.

Allister jumps, shoulders hiked up to his ears as another involuntary noise leaves him. The sting is soothed immediately, the pads of Milo’s fingers dipping into the vee of Allister’s legs to rub at the indents he must have left.

Allister positively melts, a bright spark of pleasure shooting up his spine as Milo works his hand deeper, massaging at the sensitive skin, rubbing at the marks. Allister’s thoughts start to go a little hazy, zoning out to the feeling of Milo tensing and relaxing his grip, conversation washing over him like a wave.

It feels a little like he’s sinking into a warm bath, feeling weightless and warm as his legs fall open, an unconscious invitation for Milo to slide his hand lower, deeper. Pawing at the damp skin where Allister’s thighs had been so firmly pressed together.

He’s breathing heavy now, trembling in earnest as Milo strokes at the heated skin between his legs, hands alternating between a firm grim and easy, light strokes. It’s all he can do not to make any noise, panting behind his mask and eye’s heavy and lidded at the feeling of Milo cataloging every inch of his thighs. 

It feels so good Allister thinks he’s going a little crazy, unfocused and out of sorts as Milo drags his hand up higher, slipping under the edge of his shorts and absently brushing a pinky against the line of Allister’s briefs.

He’s already so overstimulated he can’t think, feels like he can’t breathe, doesn’t register the seeking, rolling motions of his own hips. He’s biting his lip hard enough to taste blood, humming an old lullaby under his breath to keep himself from crying out.

He sinks into his chair, legs sliding forward and encouraging Milo’s seeking hands to go further. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or what he wants – all he’s aware of is how good Milo’s hands are, how _right_ his touch feels.

\--

It’s then that Milo finally seems to clue in to what he’s doing, hand stilling momentarily as Allister slides down his chair, bringing Milo’s hand flush against his cock.

It dawns on him what he’s been doing, taking stock of where his hand is, why Allister is shaking like a leaf where he’s perched next to him. He doesn’t know when he’d started stroking the tip of his pinky against the small bulge in Allister’s shorts, but now that he’s started, he’s loathe to stop.

He darts a glance down and he’s almost shocked by what he sees. In their little corner of the table, this little slice of heaven, Allister is _responding_ to him. Legs spread wide, shorts rucked up where Milo’s got his whole hand under them – exploring, seeking.

Allister’s hands are gripping the sides of his chair so hard his already pale hands have gone white as a sheet.

But…

He’s not moving away, or trying to stop Milo. He’s not shying from the touch, or even making any noises of protest. If anything, he’s receptive, hips jerking every time Milo rubs his fingers into the crease that separates his crotch from his thigh, that intimate boundary that Milo hadn’t realized he’d begun to cross.

And _oh_, isn’t that something.

Milo can’t help himself, he really can’t, lets his hand roam higher, now three fingers toying with Allister’s underwear, slipping easily under the spandex and running along the length of his cock.

And Allister is so soft, unbelievably so, and Milo’s touches get decidedly more curious, hungry now for a taste of something he never thought Allister would let him have. He skirts his fingers over Allister’s balls, small and hairless and Milo wants to roll them against his tongue.

He lets his hand drift, fondling and stroking as he goes, feeling every one of Allister’s twitches and jerks. He palms at his roughly, just to see what he’ll do at the unexpected force.

Allister doesn’t disappoint, coming alive at the touch and letting out a noise that Milo promptly smothers with an exaggerated cough. Piers shoots him a weird look, but he’s otherwise left alone, breathing out a sigh of relief just as he grinds the heel of palm down into Allister’s crotch.

He’s delighted at the reaction too, Allister’s back curving just a slightly as he rocks his hips up into it. Milo goes a little red just watching him, feeling a tell-tale tightness in his own pants.

“How’s that feel?” Milo murmurs, when he’s sure everyone’s attention is firmly elsewhere, leaning his body into Allister’s and playing with his most private spot.

Allister doesn’t answer, but one of his small hands moves to grip at Milo’s arm. There’s a horrible moment when Milo thinks Allister is going to shove him back –

But no, Allister tips his head forward, resting his mask against Milo’s shoulder and rolling his hips up to get a little more friction.

Milo wants to crow in delight, instead settles for licking his lips and curling his fingers around Allister’s cock in a loose grip. He’s small, tiny enough that Milo’s fingers curl easy all the way around him. He wonders if Allister has jerked off before, if he knows what he likes, if he could tell Milo exactly how he wants to be touched.

It’s fanciful thinking, and he’s uncomfortably aware of how young Allister is. There’s a moment where he thinks he might withdraw his hand, but then Allister lets out a low, desperate sound and Milo is positively fucked.

He presses his thumb against Allister’s slit, pleased to find enough precum to make his job easier.

He wants – well, he’s not sure what he wants. He wants Allister to keep thrusting into his hand like he needs it, needs Milo to touch him.

It’s so hot, sweaty and heated where he’s got his hand trapped in Allister’s pants, bringing him off in full view of their coworkers, their _friends_. Milo feels a hysterical kind of laughter bubble up in his throat, tamps it down to avoid drawing attention.

But god, if only they could see Allister like this, shaking and needy, nails digging in to Milo’s wrist and begging with nothing but his body.

“What are you boys up to?” Nessa says, directing the attention of the table to where Milo’s crouched over him.

Milo’s head jerks up, looking decidedly caught out as he lets out an awkward laugh and shrugs. His hand doesn’t stop though, and it’s all Allister can do to keep still now.

If anything, Milo just moves his hand faster, scratching the back of his head with his free hand and shooting Nessa an apologetic look.

“Just planning our next training session!” Milo lies, easier than he thought possible, flinching when Allister’s nails finally dig in hard enough to break skin. He doesn’t stop, can’t, really, just shoots his friends a cheery look and waits for them all to ignore them again.

Any other time he’d be thankful for Nessa trying to include them, include Allister, but right now there’s nothing he wants more than to make Allister come for him.

It doesn’t take long, and Milo can practically feel it coming. Senses it in every line of Allister, the way his body tenses, how he lets out another one of those bitten off moans.

Milo can’t stop a murmured, “That’s it. Just like that.” As he brings Allister off with firm, quick pumps.

He pinpoints the precise moment by the way Allister’s legs slam together, crushing Milo’s hand where its busy touching him.

In a heartbeat, Milo’s hand is covered in the sticky evidence of a job well done. Allister slumps against his side immediately, boneless and dragging in deep, ragged breaths.

Milo wants to keep touching him, but Allister finally wiggles his hips back, away for the first time that evening, and Milo figures he’ll cut him a little slack. He’s not drawing away completely, which is a good sign, and if Milo’s hand wasn’t covered in cum, he’d loop it around Allister and press him close.


End file.
